


that way you move is so demanding

by spectrespecs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Oral Fixation, Porn with Feelings, Post S7, improper use of military issued furniture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 16:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16390913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectrespecs/pseuds/spectrespecs
Summary: Shiro has a new need developing as he phases in and out of the discussion around him and thinks about Keith’s hands on the table in a different context, held down by Shiro’s arm against the cool surface.or, how Shiro and Keith find a new use for the strategy room meeting table





	that way you move is so demanding

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for a while to finish, and while not featuring Keith’s birthday, it’s posted as a celebration of today. My wish for Keith is to be getting the dicking down he deserves from Shiro today.
> 
> And for [jade @tiedbow](http://tiedbow.tumblr.com/), my fic writing shamer, thank u. This wouldn't have gotten done without you.
> 
> Title from “Let Me Talk To You/My Love” by Justin Timberlake because a lot of this was written while I was not paying attention to the opening band and DJ for his concert last night.

Shiro thinks about it during a morning briefing. The Paladins, MFEs, Atlas crew, and other Garrison officials are all in their usual states of varying wakefulness, from Kinkade’s calm attention to Lance’s slightly dazed expression. Iverson takes up his post in front of the long table they all gather around during strategy room meetings and begins by relaying the current state of rebuilding efforts for the cities closest to the Galaxy Garrison. Everyone tries to sit up and focus on the commander’s words. Shiro is in his usual seat near the end of the table, Keith on his right side with the tips of the pinky and ring finger of his new arm just barely settled on Keith’s leg. Keith is leaning forward, one elbow on the table propping his head up while the fingers of his other hand gently drum against the surface. 

Shiro never wavers in his concentration in meetings typically; posture straight giving the respect he would want if he was speaking. But Shiro is allowed to have days where that doesn’t happen. Something about the way Keith’s hand keeps a light rhythm on the tabletop intrigues Shiro, eyes slipping to watch them move instead of Iverson speak. 

“Can you stop making that sound?” Griffin suddenly says, voice stern. 

Shiro looks up to see Griffin shooting Keith a glare before putting his disgruntled gaze on Shiro as if somehow it was also Shiro’s doing that Keith was absentmindedly striking his fingers against the table. 

“What?” Keith asks, and Shiro feels him tense under the light touch he has on the other’s leg. The room feels similarly uneasy since a junior just cut off a commanding officer mid-briefing.

“Your fingers tapping on the table,” Griffin rolls his eyes. “It’s distracting.”

“Okay,” Keith huffs, leaning back against the chair and setting the hand that had been offending Griffin down on his leg, covering the parts of Shiro’s hand on him. 

Even though Shiro has just found a new fascinating pastime watching Keith’s slim fingers on the table, he didn’t mind the change at all. He looks back at Griffin who has crossed his arms and is glaring at the space between Shiro and Keith as if he knew what was happening below view: illicit hand holding. 

“If we’re quite done,” Iverson gruffly announces before turning back to the images of reconstruction he was discussing on the screen. 

“Sorry, sir,” Griffin immediately responds because no matter how annoyed, he still has an inherent need to follow orders. 

The meeting gets back on track and so does Shiro’s mind, actually focusing when Sam and Allura get up to convey what little new information they’ve gained about the robeast. 

But then he wanders again as Keith shifts more of his hand to cover Shiro’s. It’s not as if the two of them haven’t been spending every moment since Keith was released from the hospital together. It’s not as if it  _ isn’t _ known that the Captain of the Atlas and Leader of Voltron can be found in close orbit of each other constantly when not off on their own separate missions and meetings. Shiro has a new need developing as he phases in and out of the discussion around him and thinks about Keith’s hands on the table in a different context, held down by Shiro’s arm against the cool surface.

One of the hands he’s been contemplating moves and squeezes his, and Shiro turns to meet Keith’s eyes. There’s a softness in them that conveys Keith can tell Shiro is drifting and is concerned as to what the reason may be. The rough warmth of Keith’s hand is trying to ground Shiro back to the meeting--back to Keith--and Shiro squeezes back with a full smile. He thanks every star for whatever led him to Keith, someone who so fully cares for him. 

_ It’s okay _ , Shiro mouths and Keith nods, moving his attention back to whoever had moved on to present now.

The last part of the meeting is Shiro and Keith respectively addressing the room about the Atlas and Voltron before jointly presenting about how their combined team trainings have been going. Once everything is wrapped up, Shiro is supposed to go tackle his absolute favorite saving the universe activity, paperwork. Keith is supposed to spend the rest of the day working with the Paladins and the MFEs, and Shiro wishes he could even just skip his office responsibilities and go watch the training out in the desert. Shiro loves watching Keith lead.

But duty calls, Shiro supposes, but he still wants to have one thing to look forward to later on. He waits until everyone has shuffled out of the room, and they’re the last two left. 

“Are you free tonight?” Shiro whispers ducking his head down so the question is whispered into Keith’s ear. Keith turns his head to look at Shiro’s face, and Shiro moves his head back a fraction to maintain a paper thin amount of space between them.

“You know my schedule, Captain,” Keith’s eyelids lower slightly and his gaze flickers between Shiro’s lips and eyes.

“Good,” Shiro nods, abruptly moving away and smoothing down the front of his uniform, looking at the floor, away from this boyfriend. “Then keep things open after dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Keith provides a lazy salute with a half-smile when Shiro looks back up him. Shiro returns the smile and watches Keith walk backward away from him, out the door and down the hall towards Team Voltron’s scheduled training. 

There’s a lightness to Shiro’s steps as he heads back to his office that lingers throughout the rest of the workday.

 

\-----

 

At dinner, Shiro and Keith sit at the center of the usual table the Paladins and MFEs share to end the day. Shiro feels serene and content surrounded by his friends, Keith at his side, and with the knowledge of what he’s planned later for the two of them. 

Keith raises an eyebrow at Shiro when the first members of the group get up and bid their farewells for the evening. Shiro simply waves Kinkade and Leifsdottir off with a smile and continues his discussion with Hunk about how he found a new way to work an equation that’s going to be beneficial to them for programming better combined simulations for all the defense teams. He knows Keith thought they would also be leaving at the earliest moment found acceptable, even if it would cause everyone to give them knowing looks and the echo of Rizavi’s wolf whistle following them as they walked out the mess hall. 

But what Shiro wants requires everyone having gone off to their respective places in the Garrison with only the night patrol roaming the halls to be of any worry. 

Eventually, it’s just the two of them with Allura and Lance left, and the latter is essentially half asleep on Allura’s shoulder. 

“It seems he’s rather tired, and I should get him to his room,” Allura concedes as she also stifles a yawn and drags a mumbling Lance out. 

There are a few late eaters finishing up at other tables. Shiro moves his right arm to circle Keith’s side and pulls him closer. Keith tenses at the public display but loosens up after looking around at the nearly empty hall, and then he takes the opportunity to lean into Shiro, head resting on a shoulder and sighing. 

“Are you planning a midnight raid of the kitchen or something? It wasn’t even mac and cheese night,” Keith asks lightly, a hand brushing up and down Shiro’s abdomen. 

“Not quite,” Shiro chuckles and takes a moment to simply enjoy the quiet closeness with Keith. He’s sure it’s a sight for the few in the hall to see the two leaders appearing to fall asleep on each other in the middle of the cafeteria, but it’s probably also a reasonable sight. They both do work incredibly hard. 

Keith doesn’t question the fact they keep sitting there, going between silence and brief random conversation topics from the day’s events to what Keith is planning to do next to fix up the shack. When the last person leaves, Shiro slowly disentangles from Keith and places a kiss on his head. 

“Let’s go,” he takes Keith’s hand in his to pull him up and guide him through the halls to the location he’s chosen for the evening. 

“Are we really strategizing in secret at night?” Keith deadpans when they reach the door to the main strategy room that their days start in, and Shiro scans his hand for entry. 

“Not quite,” Shiro echoes his earlier reply with a smirk and pulls Keith inside, using the inner scanner to lock the room. 

As soon as the door closes, Shiro pushes Keith up against it, crowding him in before moving his hands under the other man’s thighs. Keith knows what to do and puts his arms around Shiro’s neck before he’s hoisted up, legs wrapping around Shiro as they also both move in to kiss. 

It’s slow and relaxed, they move their lips against each other with tongues gliding and sighs. Shiro unbuttons the top of Keith’s uniform jacket and starts to work a mark on his neck while Keith cards his fingers through white hair. 

“Really, Captain?” Keith starts to laugh but it’s cut off with a moan when Shiro bites. “The strategy room?”

Shiro moves back to look at Keith and only responds with a smile before going back in to kiss him. He increases his hold on Keith, who then knows to make his tighter as well so Shiro can move them from the doorway and carries Keith to the table, keeping their bodies pressed close and their mouths on each other. 

“Not the room, the table,” Shiro mumbles moving his mouth a fraction so his lips still brush Keith’s. 

They can only maintain their slow pace for so long before the new uniforms jackets they were so recently given are pulled off and thrown onto the chairs surrounding the table. Undershirts receive the same treatment before Shiro pushes Keith further onto the table. 

“Lie in the middle,” he instructs, and Keith sprawls across the center, arms above his head and face turned to look at Shiro, who is still standing at the edge. His eyes travel from the dark hair, longer than he’s ever seen it, spilled across the harsh military approved surface, down Keith’s body, mapping out the scars he already knows before settling on the bulge signaling that Keith wants Shiro, before going back to look into Keith’s eyes. 

He always wants Shiro, and Shiro feels the same way about Keith. Sometimes Shiro just watches Keith and thinks maybe everything was worth it. Maybe every round in the gladiator pits, death, and the astral plane were all worth it if it means at the end of the day the man in front of him loves him and will be at his side for the rest of their lives. 

“Come here,” Keith says softly, crashing through Shiro’s drifting thoughts and dragging him back to the here and present. 

“Convince me.”

Keith lets out a harsh laugh before sighing and lying back, hands drifting down his torso and eyes closing as he undoes his pants and pushes the rest of his clothes and boots off. Once he’s laid bare in front of Shiro, he arches, a hand in his hair, and slowly opens his eyes to look back at Shiro. 

_ Yes _ , Shiro thinks.  _ It was all worth it _ . 

Shiro rids himself of his clothes as well and pushes up onto the table to settle over Keith. The surface is harsh, and it won’t be comfortable, he knows, but Shiro still feels a thrill go through his body that they’re here. 

Keith cups Shiro’s face to bring their mouths together, and they both let out laughs because they know this is a little ridiculous. 

Eventually, Shiro moves away to seek out his jacket and search the pockets for what he brought and goes back to his place between Keith’s spread legs. 

Even though he knows Keith has grown preferential and accustomed to Shiro using the new tech arm’s fingers to open him up, Shiro coats flesh fingers and presses the first into Keith. Keith’s mouth opens to let out a groan, but an eyebrow raises in silent question as to what Shiro has planned. 

Shiro leans forward to cover Keith again as he continues to work his fingers and kiss the man under him. “Hands up,” he whispers to Keith, and his boyfriend obeys, removing the hands on Shiro’s shoulders and stretching them above him on the table again. “Good boy.”

The tech arm then goes to take a hold of Keith’s wrists and keep them pressed down onto the surface. A sharp breath escapes Keith at the feel of metal pushing him down against unrelenting artificial tabletop. 

Shiro works inside Keith slowly while placing another mark on his neck. Keith writhes as a second finger is added and Shiro starts moving down Keith’s body, stopping along the way to provide attention to the places he knows will make Keith cry out. 

“Shiro, stop,” Keith whines when Shiro bites at sharp hip bones. 

He moves back up to look Keith in the eyes and stops the ways he’d been playing the man’s body.

“You okay, baby?” Shiro murmurs and gently kisses Keith’s scarred cheek. 

“Someone was gonna hear,” Keith closes his eyes as Shiro continues to lay soft kisses across the other’s face, breath panting out as he tries to steady himself. 

“Then you need to stay quiet,” Shiro whispers into Keith’s ear. “Need help?”

Keith’s breath hitches as Shiro’s tech arm lets go of the hold on Keith’s wrists. Shiro shifts to sit back and runs a hand down Keith’s chest and lets it rest on his abdomen, above where Keith really wants it. Shiro’s right arm makes its way down from Keith’s hand, one finger lightly running along the inside of an arm making him shiver, but Keith doesn’t move his arms from their place. Once he reaches Keith’s head, Shiro cradles Keith in his hand and takes a moment to marvel at how Keith looks held by him. Fingers card through the dark hair; the hand is large enough that his thumb can run along Keith’s bottom lip before pulling back. Keith’s eyes flash an impossibly darker blue as he opens his mouth, expecting. 

“You always know what you want,” Shiro laughs lowly and doesn’t hesitate to sink two fingers into Keith’s mouth to mirror the two fingers of his left hand also inside Keith. 

Eyes flutter and a muffled moan comes from Keith as Shiro resumes working his left hand but also starts to move his right in and out of Keith’s mouth, making sure to just leave the tips in before pushing back in. Keith arches and his head presses back onto the table, trying to push back on both sets of Shiro’s fingers. 

Shiro loves this. Shiro loves him. It’s years of trust and devotion that rises up and crashes across them in moments like this. It’s knowing they’ll take care of each other and make each other feel good. It’s knowing that they can go from the roughest of thrusts onto a hard surface to a soft swipe of a hand across a brow. 

A third finger goes into Keith, and the fingers in his mouth stop moving. Shiro’s right hand remains still as Keith sucks on the fingers with a moan, and Shiro’s thumb rests across Keith’s jawline, the slightest brush across the skin there. Shiro just barely keeps letting his fingers graze where Keith wants them inside. He lets Keith fleetingly feel that spark but then takes it away, making Keith whine around the metal fingers. After Shiro rewards Keith with one hard thrust against the spot, Keith shouts and bites down on the fingers. Shiro can feel a dull version of the sting associated with the bite and hisses, pushing them deeper into Keith’s mouth. Keith makes a choked sound and arches harder before Shiro goes to extract his fingers. 

Until now, Keith has impressively not moved his hands from their resting place above his head. Fists are clenched, but now Shiro watches as one arm moves to grab the tech arm. He doesn’t move the arm away but rather simply grips its wrist tightly. 

“Baby, you good?” Shiro coos and offers another hard thrust in with his hand and spreads his fingers inside. 

Keith responds with a whine around the metal, and Shiro feels another pang of want to see that corners of Keith’s eyes are shining with wetness. 

Shiro pulls his fingers from Keith and shushes the resulting sound of loss that breaks out of the man beneath him. He leans back down to cover Keith’s body, placing soft kisses on his way up. When he reaches eye level with Keith, they both smile and softly laugh again. 

One of Keith’s hands fists into Shiro’s hair, white stands sticking up through slim fingers, to pull down his head. It’s slow and soft opposed to what they had just been doing. Shiro feels himself melt into Keith as they both attempt to slowly devour the other while also conveying how much adoration they feel. 

The automatic lights in the room turn off, blanketing them in darkness with the sensors unable to detect any movement. Shiro pulls back to see Keith’s face illuminated in the blue glow of his arm. It’s a sight that Shiro has grown to love, whether it’s Keith’s content face smiling at him before cuddling close to sleep or his eyes screwed shut crying out Shiro’s name, the darkness contrasted with blue across Keith is one of Shiro’s favorite things. He touches their foreheads together and sighs, admiring how the light also brings out the depth of Keith’s eyes. 

“Can you turn around for me, baby?” Shiro asks. 

“Yeah,” Keith replies, breathless. He still bends up to steal one more kiss from Shiro’s lips before rolling over in Shiro’s arms. 

Keith props himself up on his elbows, head bent low. Swiping aside the long locks, Shiro places a kiss to Keith’s neck and works down to a shoulder blade before pulling back and positioning Keith. 

“So, are we getting the table dirty, then?” Keith laughs as Shiro moves back up and noses the hair on Keith’s neck. 

Shiro scoffs. “You don’t think I came prepared?”

“Did you?”

“Maybe.”

They both let out more laughter before Shiro abruptly stops Keith’s by pulling his hips back and using a hand between shoulder blades to push him down. 

Shiro can’t help putting one more kiss on Keith’s body, just above the tailbone, to watch the other shudder. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , Shiro moves behind Keith and pushes in. It’s a slow move forward and their knees are already straining on the harsh table surface. Keith’s face is flat on the unforgiving polished wood, turned to one side to breathe as Shiro’s right arm floats to keep him down. Warm flesh hand moves up and down, grazing Keith’s side as they re-acquaint themselves with this level of closeness. 

And then Shiro starts moving. He bites his bottom lip to keep his own noise down but the earlier problem of Keith being loud is springing up again as Shiro wastes no time to hit Keith inside where it makes him close to screaming. Even though the temperamental sensors still aren’t picking up movement in the room, leaving it in darkness, a dark room with any sound is more suspect for the night patrol as a room with the lights on. 

“Do you need help keeping quiet again?” Shiro says with a stutter as he gives Keith a slow grind before resuming his quick and hard pace.

“ _ Shiro _ ,” is all Keith can reply while fingers scramble across the smooth tabletop, made slicker by Keith’s sweat and hot breath. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Shiro offers, and the tech arm takes a loose hold around Keith’s chest to pull him back, taught in an arch against Shiro’s chest. Shiro knows the position isn’t sustainable, but Shiro needs this. Keith needs this.

The tech arm stays across Keith while this time Shiro’s left hand moves to Keith’s face, taking a hold of his jaw to bring him to Shiro’s mouth. Keith’s eyes have a light haze to to them, even visible in the dim blue glow, as he looks at Shiro. It’s a look that makes Shiro miss a few breaths as the two stare fixed on each other before mutually setting into motion to let their lips meet, tongues sliding the same way they’re already moving against each other.

Discomfort starts to creep up Shiro’s legs, and in the back of his mind he thinks that they’re probably pushing it for time, so he shoves Keith back down onto the table. Resting his forehead against Keith’s neck, Shiro’s left hand seeks out Keith’s on the table and clutches it. Their breathing is ragged. Keith collapses down further onto the table, stifling his cries into his arm and the surface. 

“Shiro, come on,” Keith gasps. 

Shiro bites at the back of Keith’s neck and then runs it over with a lick. “Patience, baby.”

“Fuck,” Keith grits out and doubles his efforts pushing back as Shiro pushes in. They both let out loud moans at the resulting collision of their bodies. 

Even though he wants to keep his hand on Keith’s, Shiro moves to clutch narrow hips in both hands and move the man under him the way he knows hey both need to get to where they want. Keith tries to cut off his cries, but Shiro knows he’s getting close. He knows what the tensing muscles he can feel shifting under his hands mean. He knows Keith is working his own hand over himself. 

In the dark strategy room, back illuminated blue, Keith comes, with a hand slammed on the table and a shout of Shiro’s name. Shiro follows quickly after, grip tightening to leave bruises he’ll lick in apology later. 

They collapse down onto the table, moving to their sides with Keith pressing himself along Shiro’s back. 

“So,” he pants out, “what’s the rest of your plan here?”

“Mmm, give me a minute,” Shiro groans. Keith offers a small headbutt in response that makes him laugh. 

As they sit up and get off the table, the lights flicker back on and they’re confronted with having to get the room back in shape before the first meeting in the morning. Shiro rummages through his jacket and finds the small container of wipes and throws them towards Keith. 

“Shiro, these are hand sanitizer wipes,” Keith says amused. 

“They sanitize,” Shiro winks and pulls his pants back on before opening a pack and trying to rid any evidence that the two of them were here. 

Once the room, and themselves, are as back in as close order as possible, Shiro takes Keith’s hand and to pull him through the halls back to their quarters. Unfortunately, as soon as they step out of the room, they’re met with one of the night patrol who appears more panicked than they are. 

“Captain, Sir!” the junior officer snaps to a salute and addresses them respectively. Everyone is still unsure how to address Keith as the leader of Voltron, so he’s getting used to awed members of the Garrison stuttering out  _ Sir _ as greeting. 

“Hi, Officer,” Shiro nods so the poor man can relax. 

“Was there a late meeting?” he asks the two of them, confused, and then looks down at their joined hands. Their relationship isn’t a secret in these halls but Shiro feels himself redden from how suspect they probably appear. 

“Oh, no,” Keith pats Shiro’s shoulder and chuckles, “the Captain here forgot his datapad somewhere, and we’re just trying to track it down.” Keith’s always quick on his feet, and tongue. In many ways; Shiro is thankful for that.

Even if the guard is dubious about the explanation, he’s not going to push Shiro and Keith for further information. It does have perks to be the Captain of the Atlas and Leader of Voltron, even if they are the extremely juvenile ability to get out of trouble for kissing in the halls, or, in their case, a little bit more than that. 

The other officer nods and salutes them again with a farewell, and Shiro and Keith mirror him. Once they start walking away and are certain they’re out of range, Shiro can’t help but push Keith against one of the walls and kiss him breathless just a bit. Just a bit more from this night. 

They eventually make it back to their room, curled around each other with sounds of their quiet laughter and even softer declarations of love.

 

\-----

 

The same as yesterday and all the days before, the top Garrison brass, Team Voltron, Atlas crew, and MFE Pilots trickle into the strategy room for the morning debrief. Even though they’re typically two of the first to appear and take their places next to each other near the head of the table, today they’re the last to come in. And they’re late. 

Heads turn to watch them both enter the room with Keith wearing his neutral expression that always seems like it’s just about to slip into a scowl. Shiro, on the other hand, starts to turn red and stutters out an apology for their tardiness as he follows behind Keith around the table to take their seats. 

The bright lights of the morning, which are just the same artificial lights as always, suddenly make Shiro confront the fact that he is sitting around a table with people he considers close family and friends. And Keith and he did the unmentionable on the table. There’s a plate of muffins, undoubtedly made by Hunk, sitting on the center.  _ That’s definitely where _ ...Shiro trails off in thought.

“Hey, man, you don’t need to stare at them! They’re for everyone!” Hunk happily declares, clearly thinking that Shiro’s lost in thought gaze was focused on the muffins and not the memory of pushing Keith down onto the surface.

“Oh, yeah, thanks…” Shiro takes a muffin because he has to out of politeness now and gingerly bites at it with no appetite.

Iverson clears his throat and stands in the front of the room to start the meeting. “Any statements of note before we begin?”

Pidge raises her hand, “Yes.” She pushes her glasses further up her nose and stands up, gaze sweeping across the table before looking at Iverson. “I’ve been testing some new motion-sensitive surveillance equipment. I had set it up in different common areas to use as controls and variables for what settings work best.”

Shiro feels like he knows where this is going, and he wonders if it’s still captainly to slide down the chair and become one with the floor.

“One of those rooms was this very strategy room,” Pidge turns sharply to look at Shiro and Keith. “And for the record, the others are the Atlas common room, the training room, and the Garrison lounge, just in case anyone wants to know where they’re possibly being watched as I test these.”

Her eyes don’t leave Shiro and Keith, so Shiro clears his throat, “That’s great, Pidge. When are you, uh, setting these up?”

“I set them up last night and they’ve been recording successfully at signs of unusual movement since then. I looked over the footage from last night.”

“Oh, was there some unusual activity?” Allura asks, sitting up genuinely concerned.

“No, Allura, unfortunately, it was just a mistake, but I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

Shiro only has fear in his heart for Katie Holt at this moment.

Keith grabs the muffin that Shiro’s tech arm is dangerously close to pulverizing into fine crumbs and talks around the mouthful of a bite he takes. “Thanks, Pidge. That’s good research you’re doing.”

Everyone around the room murmurs and nods in agreement with Keith, and Pidge’s eyes narrow slightly at him, but she cannot help preen under the combined appreciation of the room for her tech work.

“Well, if that’s all,” Iverson drawls, turning towards the screen to start with the updates of the last 24 hours.

Shiro looks over at Keith on his right, and Keith is turned back to look at him as well. Both their faces spread into easy smiles at the other and they have to duck their heads to look away, back up at Iverson. Shiro takes Keith’s hand in his and squeezes. So Pidge knows their sins, it just means they’ll have to be very careful to not upset for a while. Or, more likely, for life, so she doesn’t spill the secret. But for now, what everyone else doesn’t know won’t hurt them. And Shiro eases into his seat, warmth in his chest turning hot at the memory of last night when Keith lays a hand, fingers spread, down on the table. 

Actually, maybe meetings are going to be a different form of slow torture for Shiro now.

**Author's Note:**

> yell @ me about Voltron and how these two love each other: tumblr & twitter


End file.
